


a boy + his moon

by wavesketcher



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2018-12-07 09:26:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11620719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wavesketcher/pseuds/wavesketcher
Summary: Time of the Marauders. You have always been intrigued by quiet Remus Lupin and his mysterious glances at the moon.





	1. Chapter 1

James Potter sits about a meter or so away from you, laughing a little too loudly in to the evening’s sinking sun. His wand dangles precariously between his figures as he gently flicks it left, right, left, right as if scratching away at the sky. Sirius is sitting just to the right of him- you can make out his strong form against the oak - and… and Remus, a little ahead of the pair on the bank burying his gaze in a book and smiling occasionally at his friends chatter between the pages. 

Not that you’re looking, of course. Coming down to the bank at sunset has always been something you  _enjoyed._ Yes, your usual spot doesinclude your feet kissing the lake whilst you document the evening in a notebook but well, you can write just as well a little higher. Obviously. And Remus choosing to read on the bank, that’s just a happy coincidence… Yes, definitely. 

And yet try as you might, your eyes always seem to meander their way back to floppy dark hair and a dimple that dances when laughing. You had always found something intriguing about the boy who so often melts behind his loud, often overbearing friends. In the library, James and Sirius’s voices seemed to control a room and yet, there he was. Smiling, or rolling his eyes before losing himself entirely in the sky outside. He was infatuated with the sky. 

“Hey,” Sirius calls, loud as ever, and you jump, twisting to look at his rugged face, “Y/N isn’t it?” 

“Er, yes.” 

Sirius is smiling at you. Almost a smile. More like a challenge, and you stiffen on the grass. The air seems to stiffen too as a night chill begins to descend on Hogwarts. 

“Come here,” he says nonchalantly, but there is a still that glint of  _something_ (that looks remarkably like mischief) tugging at his eye. James is watching with anticipation, smirking and Remus, if he notices at all, remains enchanted by his book, reading glasses shifting to the edge of his nose. 

“Come here,” he says nonchalantly, but there is a still that glint of  _something_  (that looks remarkably like mischief) tugging at his eye. James is watching with anticipation, smirking and Remus, if he notices at all, remains enchanted by his book, reading glasses shifting to the edge of his nose. 

“It’s okay… I think I’m going to head in now anyway…” you trail off at Sirius’ expression.

“Don’t think we haven’t noticed you, Y/N. You always sit in that exact spot at this exact time every evening,” he grins suggestively, “Sooooo tell me, which one of us is it?” 

Your heart begins to drift in to chaos.

“We won’t be offended,” Sirius laughs, “I know you fancy one of us. Who is it, hm? Me,” he raises his eyebrows, “or James.”

James, as if a reflex, runs a hand through his hair. For a fleeting moment he looks taken aback, before slipping back in to the usual persona and smirking, just like Sirius.

You can feel a red hue creeping across your face. This was not what was supposed to happen  _ever_. Painful as it was, you had become quite accustomed to being a silent admirer of the  boy who smelt of the stars and mystery. His friends however….

“No- it’s not-”  you’re choking on your words, unsure of how to even articulate anymore. 

And then Remus closes his book and looks up. He narrows deep brown eyes, “What’s going on?”

James grins, “We’re just asking our admirer over here which one of us she has  _affections_  for.”

He says it with a sneer and Remus shifts his gaze to yours. And your heart tenses and melts all at once. There’s something soft in his brow as he says his next words, “Leave her alone, Padfoot. Let her write.” He gestures towards your open notebook and daringly reaches your eyes again before quickly flickering back to the emerging moon.

“Now, now, Moony. If a pretty girl takes an interest, it’s our right to know who she likes,” Sirius says firmly. 

You shake your head, “I’m sorry- it’s not like that… I just…like to watch the sky from here…” you finish lamely, cringing.

Remus inclines his head towards you slightly as you say your last words but Sirius and James just laugh.

“I get we’re a little intimidating, Y/N. But please put us out of our misery…” 

You begin to protest again, your face now burning with embarrassment, wishing with such an intensity that you were safely in the common room.

“I said leave her alone.” 

Remus’ voice is stronger now, almost angry. And you can’t help the tightening in your stomach as he says so, watching as his eyes harden.

The other two look momentarily startled at their usually passive friend’s intrusion before nodding and mumbling about heading back up to the common room.

“Er, sorry Y/N, we were only messing,” James says awkwardly, his hair now flat against his forehead. Sirius nods at me weakly before grabbing James’ arm and pulling him up. 

You watch as they disappear down the bank in muffled whispers. Remus is again absorbed with the moon’s casting glow and for a minute you think about moving to sit next to him, admiring the white orb together.

“I’m really sorry about them,” he says quietly, “They think they can talk to any girl they like. And- you’re not any girl.” 

You don’t move, willing him to keep talking. His words echoing in your shivering frame.

“Anyway, I’ll leave you be,” he says, almost at a whisper. So quiet, in fact, you only catch it when he’s half way down the bank, swallowed by moonlight.


	2. Chapter 2

If Remus Lupin were a cloud, he’d be the kind you couldn’t unpick. Happily floating or awaiting explosion in to rain, thunder and everything in between, you would never know. 

 And mystery was dangerous. Consuming, beautiful and yet so very dangerous. This is what you did know. But that was the thing about the mystery of Remus Lupin, you couldn’t just let go.

 His words sung you to sleep last night; ‘and you’re not any girl.’ And woke you with a jolt at dawn. You watched as light dripped from the tall slit in the stone until the rest of your dorm arose in tired murmurings.

 Even now, listening to Professor Dumbledore’s annual speech on the importance of “trying your best” in the upcoming exams, you drift towards the moon and the boy who likes to drink it. He isn’t the Great Hall. Neither are James and Sirius, only their timid friend Peter sits in the section where four smirking boys should be. Well, two smirking, one twitching and… 

 Dumbledore is interrupted when the doors creak open. You spot him almost immediately, padding quietly between the arrogant stride of Sirius Black and James Potter. You catch the latter wink at a girl with hair the colour of sunsets and her eye roll in response. 

 "Ah,“ says Professor Dumbledore, “Lovely of you to join us.” But he says it with little malice. Professor Slughorn, however, mutters angrily to a dilapidated old teacher on his left.

 "Remus, James and Sirius. Please,“ he gestures towards the empty spaces along the Gryffindor table, "sit down." 

 You watch as they take their places. You and half the school, apparently. A pretty girl with long blonde hair nudges you, "Which one would you have?" 

 And the characteristic blush frosts your cheeks. She giggles behind her hand.

 "I know it’s probably the unpopular choice but I think I’d choose Remus,” she whispers dreamily and you stiffen, “he’s so-" 

 "Mysterious,” you can’t help but supply, watching as Remus unfolds a piece of parchment from his pocket and places it on the table. He looks paler, almost translucent and his dark eyebrows sharpen with his change in pallor. His lips, pinker, provide a stark contrast to his almost shimmering complexion. And if you strain, you are sure there’s a red temper dusting around his eyes. 

 "Yes,“ the blonde girl sighs, "so mysterious.”

 You ponder over his change on your slow walk to transfiguration, careful to take the outside route to glimpse at the emerging flowers. There are several pink blinking ones and a few new patches of shrinking violets and you find yourself smiling at the purple shapes diminishing to a seed before sprouting full size again.

 And you don’t notice he’s standing beside you until there’s a slow intake of breath.

  _Don’t freak out. Don’t freak out._

 Neither of you speak. Both just aware of two things; the flowers and a heavy silence punctuated by ragged breathing. Remus appears almost to be in pain and you turn slightly to look at him. Up close his complexion is so pale you can see the blood pushing through his veins. The skin around his eyes is stretched like a fragile piece of parchment and it’s true, there are delicate scratches of red trimming his waterline.

 You know you’re staring too long but suddenly even the blossoming flowers shrivel in comparison to the face of a boy etched in mystery. His bright lips part to allow air, a vein in his neck straining as if trying to burst.

  _Merlin, he’s beautiful._

You should say something. Anything. His breathing would be worrying if he didn’t look so in control, like he commanded every inch of his body. Again, a heat begins to tip toe across your face and even if you had words, you wouldn’t have been able to speak them. Standing next to Remus Lupin any day seems to dull the voice on your tongue but standing next to Remus Lupin like  _this_?

 Suddenly he stills. And then bends down to almost caress a shrinking violet. You watch as it grows beneath your fingertips. It feels like you’re intruding on Remus and nature, his delicate touch and the flowers reacting smile.

 “You haven’t left,” he says suddenly, and his voice is lower, much lower, and broken as if he had swallowed glass.

 He still doesn’t look at you but remains enamored with the flower.

 “I’m sorry, I’ll go- “you begin, feeling foolish, out of your depth and incredibly late to Transfiguration.

 But Remus shakes his head and the vein loosens slightly, “No. I mean, I just thought you would have.”

 He says it so quietly that it hangs like an admission, a secret. Your chest tightens. “Why would I leave?”

 “Because I’m dangerous,” he whispers.

 You want to reply, reach for him and his flower but he stands too fast and all you can do is gape at his retreating back and the mysteries that trail behind him.

 To say Professor McGonagall was not happy would be a gross understatement. At the very least, she sends you away in a fury, muttering about students not taking their N.E.W.T.S seriously and presents a parchment list of books you must begin reading over the coming weekend. In a perverse sense, you’re relieved. Your face still bears the signs of an encounter with Remus Lupin and your mind is positively erupting with theories and questions as to his admittance.

  _How is he dangerous? Is that to do with his change in appearance? Is that why he was late to breakfast? Why was he breathing so heavily? Why was he even beside me?_

The questions only multiply as you take a seat in the library and you can barely focus on the words, watching instead as they twist across the page and form bright red eyes and a large moon.

  _How can someone you barely know be so intoxicating?_

A small huddle of tall figures emerges from behind a bookcase. You see a hand leaning against a shelf and some characteristically shaggy black hair. Sirius. And of course, James and Remus. You drop your gaze quickly, shivering as if on instinct. They talk in low murmurs, Sirius’ gruff tones and James’ inflections masking Remus’ own sentences. From what you  _can_  hear, there is a continuous mention of ‘tonight’ and someone called Wormtail. Sirius also refers to James as ‘Prongs’, something you assume must be a nickname but it isn’t said playfully. You look up when you hear Remus laugh hollowly. It sounds almost defeated.

 And suddenly he whips around, as if sensing you, and captures your gaze so fiercely you almost collapse under the intensity. James tugs on his arm and the red glinting in Remus’ iris weakens and he drops his stare, turning back to his friends. 

 "You have to control that, Moony.“ You hear him whisper but Remus doesn’t say anything. "I know everything is… heightened around-” he pauses slightly then lowers his voice to a sound you cannot decipher. 

 It all happens in such rapid succession that you’re still staring at the back of his head. He had never looked at you like that. No, it wasn’t a look. It was as if he were…. searching your mind. And you’d never felt more exposed.

 The three begin to exit the library, James and Sirius looking over their shoulder nervously. Remus doesn’t let his gaze wander from the door. He doesn’t have to. You can see it in the tense of his back that he knows you’re watching him. Like he’s daring you to try and unpick his mystery, his cloud.

 And, sitting alone in that library, still shivering from his intensity, you find yourself  _aching_  for the moon, a boy and answers.


	3. Chapter 3

“Y/N?”

“Hm?”

You glance at the sharp-eyed girl beside you. She shakes her head, frustrated.

“Are you even listening?”

“Yes,” you reply instinctively but it hangs like a ‘no’ and you lower your gaze, blushing.

It has been several hours since the library, yet that intensity continues to burn through your core, your mind, everything until the entire common room is bathed in dangerous red. So, no, you cannot listen let alone comprehend the list of complicated Potions equations.

_Remus Lupin, you are impossible._

“Why do you keep looking out the window?” Maya huffs, dragging the parchment closer to her frame.

“I don’t.”

Your inquisitor rolls her eyes and begins bundling quills and ink in to her arms, “Look, I’m going to finish this with some of the others – if you don’t mind.”

“Er no, it’s okay,” you begin and watch as Maya joins the beaming cluster of seventh years who have never witnessed the moon’s watchful admirer or been victim to a gaze so powerful it sets your mind alight.

_Dammit, Remus._

But that  _look_ , if you can even belittle it to that, screamed of challenge; enchanting and deadly, his eyes spoke of a cloudless midnight more red than black. He wasn’t just a boy and a moon anymore, he was a boy, a moon and a dangerous secret.

Outside, the sky has embraced its dark cloak and breathes a cool chill that makes you tug on the sleeves of your jumper. The other students are beginning to dissipate, retreating to the safety of their dormitories. Maya glances at you, her brow furrowed in something almost like concern but chooses not to speak. You’re tired to having had a sleep plagued by mysteries and moons but more than that, you fear you are tired of something else.

Tired of the unknown.

You find your scarf hanging lazily on the bed post.

“Going somewhere?”

“Just need a bit of air,” you say lamely, smiling meekly at the girls in your dorm.

“You’ll get caught, Y/N,” Maya quips. She is facing the mirror, taming her curls in to two tight plaits like she does every night.

And you refuse to let tonight belong to this monotony so you lift your head and say, “I don’t care.”

This confidence carries you down the stairs and across the common room but catches on your feet at the exit hole, at the awaiting silence beyond.

_Stop chasing him, Y/N._

But unless you witness the unraveling of Remus Lupin and the labyrinth of unknowns that paints a flaming red in his eye, you will forever be imprisoned in this chase. And so, with a wildly dancing heart and a simmering determination, you step out in to the heavy silence of the castle corridors.

You begin your descent towards the main corridor, somewhat naively hoping that the passages remain as clear as the night you are about to escape in to. Choosing to remain in the shadow of the walls, you trace your hand along the stone and only the dull snores emanating from the sleeping portraits betray your isolation. It’s like walking in the castle’s subconscious, everything slightly unhinged by the lack of noise and light.

“Lumos,” you breathe and wince under the sudden eruption of brightness. Shifting your wand to the left you notice the dark door you have glided past on countless journeys down the main corridor, only once pondering over where it led. You now raise the wand to the handle, preparing to use  _alohomora_ but – you pause and move the light closer to the lock – it’s open.  _Strange._  It creaks a little when you push against it but easily widens to a reveal a small room. The light you cast over the space confirms your suspicions that it is not in fact a secret corridor to the grounds but a store cupboard and you cannot help but curse lightly. There’s an odd-looking painting propped against the back wall, unoccupied but for an old chair and you take a step in to the room, shining your wand against the rusted frame. Most empty paintings are taken out of the castle if the subject has moved on to another portrait and this particular one didn’t seem interesting enough to keep. You reach a tentative hand to the once bronzed frame, brushing against the intricate indentations that resemble a slightly flattened flower when it shifts suddenly. You jump back on instinct, keeping your wand poised, the ghost of  _expelliarmus_  ready on your lips but nobody emerges from behind. Instead, the wall behind the painting has completely disappeared and there, beckoning you, is a very small passage.

_This is ridiculous. All this for someone I barely know, who barely knows me?_

Yet it’s the aching to know that urges you forward because ridiculous or not, chasing Remus Lupin is inescapable.

You shiver at the decline in temperature once inside the passage. The breeze that whispered hungrily from the common room window dances here to and you smile in to the darkness knowing that the grounds must be at the end. You walk for several minutes before you hear something resembling a tired laugh. Again, your wand is raised, stiffened in an air that suddenly seems to weigh oppressive and dangerous.

“Shhhh! You don’t want to wake the ghosts,” someone hisses and you flatten against the wall trying to desperately to focus hard enough on your wand to enact  _nox_  non-verbally.

“Do ghosts even sleep?” comes a more timid voice followed by an “ow!”

“Just shut up Wormtail, we need to be quick.”

“You didn’t need to hit me,” says the voice that you assume is Wormtail’s.

“Both of you, stop talking and focus on walking. We need to find him.”

“Why did he even go by himself? We always go together….”

The voices are louder now and you squint in to the passage but the only shape you see is darkness.

“No idea. He seemed pretty intense today.”

“Yeah, especially around that girl again. What’s her name?”

“Y/N?”

At this you press in to the wall further, shaking with the effort to remain still. They are so close now you can fell the vibration of their whispered tones bouncing across the width of the passage. You close your eyes, tensing. Something light and silky brushes against your hand for a moment before shrinking back in to the black, the voices too. Shrinking in volume as they march down the passage.

They said your name. It’s enough to make you want to run back to safety, to Maya and plaits and homework and normality. To escape before the mystery becomes yours too.

But….

They said your name. And that look was an invite, a challenge. A dare.

Swallowing thickly, you direct your wand to your feet and murmur the silencing charm you’d perfected last year. The low voices form indistinct now but there all the same and you begin to chase after their sound on shaking legs.

“Do you think he’ll have turned yet?” you catch Wormtail’s nervous whisper, now close enough to discern the murmurings.

“Shouldn’t think so, what do you think Padfoot?”

There’s a pause before Padfoot responds dryly “Let’s hope not.”

The group proceeds for a few more minutes, changing with the curves of the passage, unaware of your delicate pace following close behind. Soon the stone under your feet begins to bounce like grass and the walls open out to dramatic hills pitched dangerously against the night. The three boys ahead of you slip off their – cloak? You aren’t sure what it is exactly – and stretch their necks up to the darkness fragmented by tiny pin-pricked stars and one smiling moon. No, not smiling, the sphere seems ominous tonight, foreboding. You press yourself against a tree, concealing your frame as the boys look around, searching wildly.

“Which way do you think?” Padfoot, who you now realise is Sirius Black, has abandoned his calm exterior, adopting a gait of panic. He throws his head back and takes a long sniff, scrunching up his face as if inhaling the night.  _Strange._

“Got anything?” James, or Prongs as the others refer to him, asks urgently.

“Something but… it doesn’t smell like it usually does. I think we should split up.”

James nods. “Where shall we change? This is too close to the castle.”

“How about down here,” Wormtail – Peter – suggests, pointing to an area you cannot see from the tree trunk. The other boys nod and move without hesitation to ‘change’, whatever that means, and you debate wildly over whether to follow them.

_What would they even say if they saw me? What would I even say?_

Something snaps to your left and you pivot, pulling your wand out in the primal response characteristic to any witch or wizard.

“Lumos,” you breathe again, casting a soft glow in the direction of the noise. More movement. Flight.

_It’s scared of me._

Keeping your wand tight against the air, you move carefully through the willowing patch of trees scratching the dark sky. The light of your wand reveals several clusters of pink wildflowers, opening their petals to the moon, and – and the hollow silhouette of a boy, shaking.

_Remus._

“I know you’re there, Y/N.”

You shudder, his voice is richer than before, thicker and not so broken – the fragments colliding together to create something that sounds like velvet only darker.

“How?” you whisper, almost inaudible.

“Your scent.”

You redden furiously.

“Don’t worry, it’s not bad,” he chuckles but there is no mirth. He pauses heavily and time laughs.

Then he turns around and you cannot suppress a gasp. Red is no longer confined to his waterline but spiders possessively across his entire eye as if scratched raw. “Are you scared, Y/N?” he whispers.

You marvel at the vein in his neck, screaming for release, and his glittering skin so pale you swear you can see the night through it. It’s like watching a cloud take its final breath before erupting in to a storm, or the fluttering of a mystery about to be solved. The throbbing pulse in your chest is aching, tired of hammering for something so fleeting, so  _Remus_. And it’s those eyes dusted with danger that makes you step forward.

Makes you say, “No.”


	4. Chapter 4

_No._

But you should be, shouldn’t you? You should be scared of his echoing breaths – so deep, like as he is savouring the taste of oxygen – and eyes wild enough to make you stiffen. _Stupefied_ without a single incantation.

And you should definitely be scared of the aching mystery pooling in your stomach, slipping too close to desire.

“Then come closer,” his breathes, as thickened and dark as the night hanging between you.

Those startling red eyes watch your movements – observing, calculating. You wonder if he is trying to memorise the rigidity of your legs as the undergrowth stretching between your feet condenses. And suddenly you are close enough to extend an arm, a hand, a finger to his chest, heaving so mightily it commands yours to do the same.

When he speaks next, you feel the words before you hear them. “Are you scared now, Y/N?”

“No,” you reply but it  is swallowed by his inhaling frame.

In a jerking motion, Remus throws his head in to the darkness and the pressing moon flashes in the reflection of his pupil.

“What is it about the moon,” you find yourself whispering softly, careful not to upset the delicate relationship unfurling in front of you. An eye and a moon so engaged they almost become one. Your heart hammers harder, demanding.

“You must go,” he murmurs, never breaking his gaze. “Whatever you think – who I am, it’s not…” – his empty words are eaten.

“I don’t know who you are,” you say, tentatively beginning to reach out your hand to calm his breaths.

He stills suddenly, as if sensing your imminent touch. A heat begins to curl itself around the air, your core, tightening. Remus shuts his eyes and that crimson ribbon seems to almost seep out of them, spidering across his face.

And you shiver, even in the burning air.

“Remus- what’s happening…”

“Go,” he says again, whispered.

“But I don’t- “

“Go,” it’s louder this time, scratched as if forcing the words out requires great strain.

“Please,” you say softly, “Please – let me help – “

But your words are drowned by the screaming, the night and that dangerous red. His form is shaking again, the red veins carving a map in to his too pale skin, and his hands too – shaking again the mossy bed.

He’s fighting something.

“Remus, please…” you’re pleading, saying his name, listening to his cries as he writhes against whatever horror is possessing him.

(And all the while, the moon laughs.)

You take a step and place a hand on his rattling shoulder blade but retract your fingers on instinct. “You’re so hot, I can’t – “you debate over running for help, screaming for help, but his own cries are too loud and you don’t think your legs could obey such a command as running right now.

Slamming your eyes closed you try to reach for him once more but are halted by a tenacious grip. Remus. His hand presses so hard in to your skin you cry out but yet again the noise is snatched. Eyes that danced of danger and heat now stare at you lifeless, black and _inhuman_.

You gasp and your wrist is released, as raw as the crimson tracks sparkling against his cheeks. Like blood. And, stiffening, you realise that this is what his eyes are now screaming for too.

“I- can’t- fight – it -much -longer,” he strains, wincing with every word, almost holding back a snarl. He shuts his eyes again to lessen the hunger bubbling in the black abyss of his pupil but with every attempt they snap back open.

Another scream and his hands are on his face, tugging at the paper veil of his skin. Ripping it.

“Remus!” Your voice sounds so distant against the widening moon, the mutating form in front of you, the sickening night.

And then, in the last breaths before losing the boy, the cloud, the mystery completely – he pins those cold, dark eyes and says as clearly as if he were not a blaze of flames and moons:

“Run.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

_“Run.”_

And you do, pushing as hard as you can away from his frame, from what he is becoming. Trees blur like running water; the grass thickened in the dark. You don’t dare turn back, fearing that if you did Remus Lupin would no longer be the figure staring after you.

Something brushes past your feet. A rat. Scampering towards the sound of a low growl? The noise coalesces with the red gaze drumming in your mind, distorting the blackened silhouettes. Still you move, dodging moonlight like a disease. A curse. You are on the verge of collapsing when firm hands connect with your shoulders.

You try to discern the face through heaving breaths. She smiles tightly. “I’m Lily. You must be Y/N.”

You note her Gryffindor robes and dark hair. She’s hung around with the gang a few times, sitting with them at lunchtimes, reading the paper whilst James probes for attention.

“Do you know what’s happening to Remus?” It shocks you how cracked your voice sounds.

She drops her hands to her sides and lowers her head. You move to ask again but a noise punctures the space around you, between you – within you.

“Does that mean…?” you pull on Lily’s eyes in terror.

“It means, we need to hide. Now.” The Gryffindor yanks on your arm and pulls you in to a crouch behind a large trunk. It groans as you collide against it.

“Sorry,” she hisses. “But don’t move. It – he - can sense it.”

_Remus._

The moon hangs mockingly above you, unfiltered by shadow, grinning to the world below. Whatever it was doing tonight, however it was hurting him, made you hate it.

On the other side of the tree, a large shape takes form within the clearing. Growling.

“Here it comes.” The girl beside you tenses as that noise ends silence again, ends silence forever. You doubt you’ll ever be to rid your ears of that howl; the screech of pain at an unforgiving moon.

“That’s Remus,” you whisper but it’s not a question and Lily doesn’t answer. She doesn’t need to.

Instead she closes her eyes and mutters, “Come _on_ James. Hurry up.”

You press tighter against the bark.

The creature stiffens too. You can feel it’s, his, legs wound the ground, killing the leaves. A shiver spirals across your torso. Fear.

_And wonder._

Lily inhales sharply, her gaze catching upon another shape finding permanence in the moonlight. Antlers stretched wide in to the night, it bows its head, ever so slightly, towards the girl. Reassurance, perhaps, if it were not for the look of uncertainty swimming in eyes far too human.

_James._

The stag turns its head to silently welcome another dark form and Lily almost smiles. A large dog, drenched in long matted fur, stands rigid between the trees. Waiting. You’re all waiting.

Then there is a crack. Something as small as a twig, broken beneath a paw. A snarl and he’s consuming the sight in front of you. It takes all of your silent strength not to clamp your eyes tight and scream. Lily finds your hand and squeezes. _Stay still_.

He hasn’t seen you yet, his blood eyes too occupied by the dog. James takes a tentative step and the wolf straightens, his breaths deepening, slowing. The stag tilts its antlers calmly: a gesture to follow. Heavy steps and Remus is moving away from your tree, the dog following close behind.

Lily exhales softly, “Merlin, Sirius.”

_Sirius?_

_The dog._

You almost go to breathe yourself when there is a bark. A warning. The wolf has stopped, it’s ears pricked by the dark sky.

Lily releases your hand. “Run when I say.”

The wolf rumbles low and hungry. It’s large head lifting in to the air. And turning. His whole body turning until he finds you. Locked in those stormless eyes; a puppet of the pale orb that reigns above you – there was Remus. A boy.

“Y/N,” she whispers, “run.”

Her movement is so fast it knocks you backwards. The creature snarls and strides forwards. Lily is screaming at you to move, run, now, _now_ but…

_“Are you scared, Y/N?”_

Sirius snarls at the wolf, another warning, and James rushes towards Lily whose screams now sound like aching sobs of _help him_ , _stop him_.

You think for a moment as to whether this is where you’re going to die. In a forest pooled in blue, by a boy slave to an entity that commands the tides.

“Remus,” you say softly, shaking with the weight of your words. “I know your secret now. And it’s okay. I promise you, it’s okay.”

He stops growling just as Sirius leaps at his frame and your name is said.

“Grab it,” a boy- _Peter_ \- yells as something is thrown over your crouching form. And Remus blinks and turns away.

* * *

You eat breakfast in silence the following morning. You’d looked for Lily, Peter, James, anyone and found only dulled chatter floating over empty seats.

“You alright, Y/N? You look kind of dead,” Maya laughs over her toast and you can’t even manage an eyeroll.

It was an invisibility cloak. That’s what Lily said was thrown over you. Remus had disappeared in to the woods, Sirius in pursuit, leaving Lily and Peter to help you up.

“He heard me,” you’d managed to say but Peter had shaken his head and Lily had given you a watery smile.

James bowed his large head before trotting off in chase of the wolf, Lily watching him silently. Peter became swallowed under the cloak, moving in what you supposed was the direction of his friends.

“Right, let’s go home,” Lily had said quietly.

You asked her why she was there - how she knew who you were.

“I’d had my suspicions about the boys for a long time. Remus showed all the signs of a werewolf and I’d assumed that James and Sirius turned in to _something_ to keep him company. I’ve been following them for a few days without them knowing. Then I bumped in to you.” Her next words were hollow, “I was so scared that he’d, you know, _attack_. It would break him if he had hurt you.”

You asked the question you’d been asking since that evening on the hill, by the lake. The boy and his moon. “Why me?”

Lily had made to enter the slim corridor you’d walked through what felt a world ago. “It’s not my place to say.”

You push your bowl to the side, the room too bright, words to heavy and-

_Remus._

Exhaustion is written in lines across his pale face; empty eyes collapsing under hooded lids. Your gaze can’t help but trace the angry scratch cutting across his lip. Pain. So much pain you want to turn away, forget about his beautiful face, who he is, how he makes you feel.

Yet, neither of you move until Sirius snakes an arm over his shoulder, steering him away. Lily smiles at you sadly, her hand now entwinned in James’s. And you exit the Great Hall, unsure how to mould whatever you’re feeling in to a smile back.

* * *

It isn’t until the evening that you see him again, seated on the hill – a shrunken ghost of the smiling, reading boy you had so liked to glance at. You sit a little behind him, throwing your eyes at the moonless sky. For now.

_Good._

“You can’t be here, Y/N,” he says quietly in to the dying sun.

You stiffen.

“Please,” he whispers. “Please go.”

And you laugh. In disbelief, in hurt, in _anger_.

“You’re unbelievable. Do you have any idea how _terrifying_ last night was!? To see you…. like that?” You will him to turn around, shaking, choking on the blackening sky, your questions and the hunched figure in front of you.

“Whatever happened last night, I will never be sorry enough for. I can’t remember, _I don’t know_ what I did, Merlin, I don’t even know _who_ I was last night. I can’t –“he digs his nails in to the grass, “I can’t look at you.”

“You looked at me before. In the library, it was like…” you trail off, unable to articulate. His back is tense, his neck still shimmering with the remnants of his…. _transformation_. “And by the flowers, why did you talk to me by the flowers?”

“Y/N,” he says your name like broken song, “please don’t do this.”

“I want you to look at me,” you whisper and your voice cracks between the words. You watch his pale hand caress the ground, aching to feel his fingers between your own. “Look at me.”

“Last night I terrified you. You said so yourself. I can’t – I won’t – terrify you again. You have to stay away from me. Sirius told me what I did, how I almost…” his voice splinters.

“You’re crying,” you whisper.

He ignores you, “Terrifying. I’m terrifying.”

You edge your way towards him on the bank. He tenses. You pause and pull your knees back up to your chin, back to safety.

“Last night was terrifying because I didn’t know how to help you. I couldn’t stop whatever was happening to you,” you will your words to be strong enough to break his fear, “You were in so much pain, it was horrible. Remus, I know you wouldn’t have hurt me.”

And then he turns, trembling – sunset upon his face.

“Yes, I would! I would hurt anyone, everyone,” he’s almost shouting, salt water climbing over his hollow cheekbones, his red gash freshly glistening in their wetness. He pauses, looks at your trembling eyes and groans. “I can’t – I can’t do this with you.”

Silence swells around you until you say quietly, “Lily knew who I was. When I asked her why me, she said it wasn’t her place to say.”

The boy ahead of you sighs, chasing away his hair with his fingers.

“Remus?”

“I’m – I’ve always found you intriguing, sitting on this hill to write, and- “he pauses, seizing you with his deep stare again. For a second you can almost see the wildness drumming in his veins before emptying in to defeat.

“Go on,” you say, without saying anything at all.

“And beautiful.”

The moon begins its tiptoe across the sky but your heart is pounding too loudly for you to care.

“Around full moon, my senses are heightened and intrigue turns in to… _desire_ -“

_Desire?_

Your cheeks burn with the word.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he says suddenly.

You blink.

“Like what?”

“Like I mean something to you.”

“What if you do?” and your heart dances dangerously in response.

Remus turns back to the moon, defeated, beaten – a prisoner. “I can’t.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued... Reviews are very much encouraged! Thank you for reading.


	6. Chapter 6

But this time when you watch his silent retreat, you refuse to let the boy disappear in to the night – the nightmare, the dance of the taunting moons.

“No.”

You say it louder: “No.”

Remus is a perfect silhouette – the frozen puppet; your words a potential liberator.

“Please don’t walk away again.” It strains loudly in the silence but falls to the grass in a whispered admission. “This is me asking you now, please – _please -_ don’t walk away again.”

He turns and the defeat in his gait feels as though the seams in your heart have unhooked.

_So beautiful._

Remus laughs dully, mercilessly at the thickening sky. “Beautiful?”

You hadn’t realised you’d said it out loud.

And like every other defiant reply you have given the moonlit boy you nod.

“Was I beautiful last night? Was I beautiful when I had claws? Or when I wanted to hurt because I would have done – you think I wouldn’t have done but I would! I would do anything, I would-“

He’s in your arms then, shaking, his words sliding weightlessly and damp off your shoulder. You’d crossed the distance, the gulf, to cradle his beautiful – _beautiful_ -  brokenness. Remus shifts to hold your shoulders, pulling you back a little in to the shadows and light plays cautiously across his still pale complexion. He pushes a careful hand through the swelling _something_ between you and pauses his fingers in the fissure of your waiting breath.

“What is it?” you murmur, tentative to not upset the wild fluttering in your core.

Remus lets the hand trail to your hair, curling a strand before taking his fingers to brush against your chin. To tilt it. His mystery unravels alongside the tendril and your suddenly frightened to invite him in to your gaze.

“I’m scaring you,” he whispers.

“No, no,” you croak back but the gentle hand on your chin is inhaling all your air.

“Then why won’t you look at me?”

“I can,” you tremble but he drops your chin and the dizziness lessens.

He smiles, so sad and broken.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

* * *

Lily accosts you in the girl’s bathroom the next morning.

“Didn’t sleep well?”

You push the hair from your face, tensing at the hands that aren’t his, and shrug at the red-haired Gryffindor in the mirror. “Not really.”

“Late night?” She asks a little too nonchalantly.

“Not particularly.”

“Hmmm.” Lily muses, pulling herself on to the sink counter and cutting in to the air with her boots.

“I saw Remus last night,” she begins.

“Oh really?” You try to feign something aloof, uninterested.

“Yeah, he seemed pretty upset.”

“Right.”

“He mentioned you actually. Said something about how he ruined it. He thought you weren’t interested anymore, I dunno – boys, right?”

You let your reflection respond in the frosted mirror.

Lily sighs. “Y/N. Look, I know this all seems weird but he’s so much more than the,” she searches the ceiling for words to catch, “moon stuff.  Honestly. He’s pretty funny actually but he’s also ridiculously caring – shy but –“

“It’s not about the werewolf.”

The word falls between you noisily.

Lily is more still: “It’s not?”

“No. I mean, it’s _him_. It’s everything. The way he… looks at me,” you turn from your reddening reflection to the floor.

“Ah.”

The Gryffindor is smiling, no, _smirking_.

“Don’t give me that look, Y/N,” she teases, “I’ve simply figured out your issue.”

A small group of laughing first years enter and she lowers he voice; “You’re scared because you’re _in love_ with him.”

You expect it clang heavily in your mind, to want to shake the word away, assure Lily that you cannot possibly be in love with a boy who you’ve only ever observed – observed, and so did he, that dangerous white light and you. He was observing you too.

“I… think you could be a little bit right.”

She twinkles, happily and you chew on your lip. “But _how_?”

“He told you about his heightened senses?”

You nod, a darker red now swelling across your skin.

“You probably sensed _that_ and well, what was an interest becomes more an infatuation. No, that sounds creepy. A _longing_ , I guess.”

Your chin itches with his cold hand.

“It’s just so… _intense_. I don’t know if I could keep up with it,” you admit.

And Lily opens her mouth wide with laugher. It relaxes you, a little.

“He’s always the quiet one sure but trust me, when full moon disperses, he’s your average teenage boy. Just maybe a little more sensitive.” There’s another pause. “He likes you anyway, without all the wolf stuff, I’ve seen him looking on a ‘normal’ day.”

“So why hasn’t he ever said anything?”

She laughs again: “Because he’s your average teenage boy.”

It makes you want to laugh a bit too.

 “Oh, Merlin. I’ve got Slughorn next and he’s called me in early for a meeting.” She rolls her eyes. “I’ll see you at dinner yeah?”

And she strolls out, long red hair catching snippets of light and holding them hostage. You like Lily, you decide.

**A/N: I was going to keep writing this chapter until the end but thought I would finish it off with a whole separate one. Sorry this was a little short and took so long to be published. A combination of writer’s block, essay writing and just the general messiness of life. Hope you enjoyed. I love the reader and Lily’s relationship so much!**


	7. Chapter 7

You move your hair left and right to your frowning reflection, sighing, slipping it in and out of its ponytail, and sighing again.

“You look good, just _come_ ,” Maya says firmly, tugging on your hanging hand.

But Remus has made you aware of your skin, how you walk, how you look upon the world, and suddenly nothing is enough. The Dining Hall is too crowded, and you can’t remember where you used to fit in to any of this before him.

“What are you waiting for? Sit down,” an impatient Maya again yanks on your arm, pulling you in to place; a place that feels unnatural now, uncertain. With every aching stare, moon and …. _I’m sorry_ , Remus Lupin has re-ordered the simple happenings of your world.

“Y/N!”

Someone calls your name. She moves towards you, sunlit hair swinging as her hand swings the arm of a brown-haired boy. And then there’s Lily. Kind, open, laughing Lily, confidently sharing James Potter to the Hall, wearing every whispered look like a badge. Sirius walks behind, murmuring something to Peter which earns him a push. His laugh is too loud for the space – all of them too loud, too brilliant for your sleepy school career.

You straighten and collide with Remus’ gaze far too quickly. His eyes have softened further, sad, tired but settled against his gently blossoming skin; the wolf retreating back to whatever curse its indebted to. The cut looks ready to find permanence in a scar and you cannot help but trace the silent curve of it – the narrative of his monthly mystery. One that you have helplessly written yourself in to.

Lily plonks down to your left and your eye feels the emptiness the moment you drop contact. The room is too hot.

“How are you doing, Y/N?” Sirius asks. He’s taken the seat opposite you, stretching in to his broad shoulders. Peter shifts awkwardly on to his seat the other side.

“Don’t be stupid, Rem, sit down,” Lily is saying and you can’t possibly focus on forming an answer to Sirius’ question when Remus is quietly taking position next to James.

“Sorry, er how do you guys all know each other?” Maya’s question clutters between you.

And, if it weren’t for Sirius’ smirk, forms a frozen silence.

“And you are?” he says, eyeing Maya’s confused frown with inclined interest.

“Merlin, Sirius, can you stop being a predator for five minutes?” Lily scolds.

And the air unhinges because Remus laughs, rich and welcoming. You feel its warmth, and within it, the second mystery of who this boy is when he is not the puppet of nature’s midnight eye – when he is just Remus.

“Would you listen to that? Moony is back to normal.” Sirius is grinning at his friend and you don’t have to turn to know that Lily is smiling knowingly at you.

Maya is trying to unpick your expression, join the dots. Perhaps she can see the moonlit tether between you and the strange boy a few seats away?

“James, Sirius, Peter do you want to go and ask McGonagall that _thing_?” Lily says suddenly. The boys look at her incredulously.

She pinches James’ arm.

“Er, yeah guys come on,” he says stiffly.

They leave clumsily and then you’re too aware of not just your own limbs but the gulf between you where James and Lily had sat. It’s like a person in itself, mocking the distance.

But there’s no moon here, nor the dusted red of danger. Remus is not shaking, nor screaming and no one but your wildly fluttering heart is telling you to _run_.  

“Well… clearly, there is some stuff you haven’t told me Y/N,” Maya sighs, collecting her plate. “I’ll see you later.” And with a last intrigued glance she carries her food to another table.

_This is ridiculous. Say something. Anything._

You can see his fingers, feel them, drumming lightly on the table. The same fingers that pulled at his mystery, yanked at it like he wanted to extract the wolf from the very fabric of his skin – the same fingers that cradled your chin.

And hung loose when you stepped away.

“I-“ he begins, then stops. You tilt your head. He’s staring at the table and maybe it’s the faint hue on his cheeks or the way he risks a glance guiltily towards you but you find a laugh and let it settle softly in the space between.

He chuckles too, “I’m awful at this.”

“At what?”

Those fingers sift through his hair and _Merlin he’s so attractive._

“At asking you out,” he says lamely.

You allow the smile in the corner of your mouth to widen. His eyes are again on the table so you say, “Do you want to go for walk?”

* * *

 

It feels more natural in motion. He’s taller than you but the presence has lessened, settled and gentle. There’s a moment where your hands catch and he pulls back, worried.

“It’s okay,” you say. And he slides his thumb over the back of your hand. It’s warmer than you’d expected, the moon’s callous grip has left something peaceful. Playful, even.

“I love this place,” he announces in to the air. You are walking over the bridge as a sunset begins to hang lazily across the sky. It dances with the shadows on his face. He looks down towards you, a smile in his word: “What?”

“Nothing… I love this place too.”

You sit with your backs against the stone, watching the river catch sunlight through the arches. His hand still encases yours. You can’t remember your fingers without his.

“It feels different now,” you admit.

He stiffens, “a good different?”

“I think so. I feel more me.”

His words come out as an inhale, “Me too.”

You squeeze his fingers tighter to yours.

“I think you’re so brave,” you say quietly.

He tiptoes across your hand to your arm, drawing circles in motion, colliding in to one another. You thinking of the careful unfurling flowers and red lips parting to release a heavy breath, his broken, beautiful form refusing to acquiesce to the silver might to keep you safe. And that scar etched in to his skin, a memory of his pain drawn down his cheek – ending just above his lip. He catches your eye there and holds it. Your whole being drums with the weight of it, the _waiting_ of it.

The dying sun enters the space between you and Remus melts in to its warmth. You tilt your head towards him, your eyes closed in the sun’s last song. You can taste his words on your mouth.

“I think I’d like to kiss you now,” he whispers and then you’re kissing the mystery, the cloud, the boy. It’s delicate at first, tentative like the opening of the night until you fall in to him. Deeper and deeper, setting your heart alight in need and ache and _more_. Always more.

The sun has dimmed and the darkness drapes. He glows within it and you laugh, embarrassed, full and a little intoxicated.

“Come on,” he says, pulling at your hand. “Everyone is by the lake.”

* * *

 

James and Lily are having a playful argument as Sirius lies on the grass in darkness. Peter is practicing some spell with his wand in the corner. It’s a picture you’d only witnessed and now you’re welcomed in to: accepting Lily’s bouncing hug and James’ wink.

“Look how finally grew some balls,” Sirius calls from his spot on the grass and Remus rolls his eyes.

“Get used to this Y/N,” Lily laughs. “They’re all children.”

You sit together on the bank as the boys throw harmless hexes at one another, even Remus. He looks far more at home in this scene than in the taunting battle with the night sky and you feel a warmth within you that teases your face in to an unwitting smile.

He laughs loudly at Peter and turns immediately to catch you against the darkening bank. His own smile is delicate, hopeful and you shake your head, laughing too.

After a while, they tire of playfighting and collapse around you and Lily, panting. Remus seems alive in it all and slips his arm around your waist as James throws his over Lily’s shoulder. He settles you further against him and places a hesitant kiss against your head. You find his hand again, tracing the groves of his palm. You want to kiss away every scar and every scar to come. You want to kiss him so hard the moon falls out of the sky, never to haunt him again. But it does, it will, and you feel him tense a little in its presence.

But it’s beautiful. Bright and unrelenting. Dangerous, of course, but tonight it smiles not out of malice, but contentment.

“What made you say no,” he whispers in to your thoughts. They swell around him, welcoming.

“When?” Your own voice is quieter, softer.

“When I asked if you were scared, you said no. Why?”

You tilt up at him, in to his question.

“This.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we are finished. Thank you for reading, commenting, inspiring me. This was such a magical story to write - one that left me undoubtedly in love with Remus. May we all find mystery in the moon (and maybe even the people around us?)


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